


Offbeat Method

by aurics



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, M/M, Mild descriptions of violence, Organized Crime
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-16
Updated: 2018-05-16
Packaged: 2019-05-07 19:44:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14678133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aurics/pseuds/aurics
Summary: Jeonghan has no idea why he didn't shoot Seungcheol point-blank when he had the chance.(Except, he really, really does, but he can't put it in words just yet.)





	Offbeat Method

**Author's Note:**

> call, call, call came out and i wrote this in an hour between my study break... gotta use up that burst of inspiration innit

 

The black-and-white suit ensemble Seungcheol insists on wearing—even when he’s riding his godawful-garish motorbike—is something Jeonghan would never _not_ laugh at. The whole get-up makes Seungcheol look like he’s an uptight businessman trying to desperately fit into this rough side of the neighbourhood, and if it was any other neighbourhood, in any other situation, Seungcheol would probably be the prime target for some beatings.

But this isn’t the first time Jeonghan’s met him, and he knows that it isn’t the case at all. Choi Seungcheol is far from someone who’d lie down and take a beating willingly.

He squares his shoulders instinctively when Seungcheol kills the engine on his bike and pulls his helmet off, shaking his hair free and raking a hand through it like he’s got an audience to impress. There aren’t many things that, or people who would intimidate Jeonghan, so he doesn’t know why his guard is being pulled way up whenever someone so much as mentions Seungcheol’s name. He’s faced worse gangs than Suengcheol’s; crueler ones, slier ones. It doesn’t matter that Seungcheol’s gang goes about their business in a scarily clean way, like one would execute a prospering business deal with minimal scuffle. It shouldn’t matter that Seungcheol’s reputation is so highly revered in the underground community, yet his name is barely spoken of unless you were willing to be thrown into some deep consequences. 

Jeonghan knows all this, yet he’s still on guard. Perhaps it’s an automatic habit he’s picked up from their previous encounter. Or maybe because the sight of Seungcheol brings an unfamiliar pool of heat to the pit of his belly, like he’s drawn to come closer despite knowing the wisest thing to do is to push himself away. 

His own bike is switched off with Jeonghan stretching his legs along the side of it. It’s parked in the convenient alleyway between two old buildings, barbed wire fences towering high up behind him like a leering guardian and he belatedly regrets his choice of location. Like this, he’s quite literally backing himself up into a corner, with nowhere to run lest his rendezvous with Seungcheol gets bad tonight. Jeonghan had been going with gut instinct when he chose the place.

So far, his gut instinct has always been right.

He eyes Seungcheol as the man settles on the wall adjacent to his bike with his arms crossed across his abdomen, back pressed on the slightly mossy wall, not caring that his pristine suit would likely be soiled. There’s a firm press to his lips and he’s not looking at Jeonghan, just breathes in and out in that mechanical way of his. The silence is driving Jeonghan crazy.

He means to break it when Seungcheol speaks up first. “Two nights ago. Itaewon. You had a clear line of shot, could’ve gotten me right between my eyes if you wanted to.” 

Jeonghan knows what’s coming next. He knew this would be coming the second he’d dropped the revolver and pulled the safety latch on the trigger. He’d been rehearsing his reply the minute he’d hopped back on his bike and driven away from Seungcheol, information in his head and no blood on his hands.

“You weren’t my primary goal,” drawls Jeonghan, sounding bolder than he actually feels. It’s not a complete lie. “We needed details of the target, you were holding it hostage from us. I was assigned to take it away from you.” 

“And take my life with it.” 

“Been bugging us, have you? Here’s a tip—don’t act like you know everything that goes on under your nose. It makes you look pathetic when you get things wrong." 

Now Seungcheol shifts to his side so his shoulder is pressed up against the wall instead. “Am I, though? Your people knew what taking the details and letting me live would mean.” 

“Living hell?” barks out Jeonghan. “Yeah, that’s not going to impress us, sweetie. Try again.” 

Seungcheol looks surprised by the brashness of his reply—and needless to say, Jeonghan is, too.

“I could’ve ratted you out.”

“To who, Jihoon? Yeah, my boss would totally enjoy having you on our doorstep. Not like he’s got a rifle pointed at your head at all times. Definitely wouldn’t pull the trigger if you so much as stepped within a 1-mile radius of him.”

“I meant to my men.”

Jeonghan looks up in surprise, finally meeting Seungcheol’s eyes. There isn't the cold, hard look that Jeonghan saw in his eyes when he’d rolled over on the ground, bike tossed aside on the side of the narrow road where Jeonghan had shot at his tires just moments ago. His jaw isn’t set the way it was when he’d almost had Jeonghan in a headlock, only to slacken his grip from the pain in his wrist, allowing Jeonghan to land a blow on his jaw and steal the wallet he knows must contain the USB. Not the look of utter contempt either, the one that Jeonghan saw as he leveled the gun to his head. 

Now there is only confusion, almost childish in its innocence.

“You mean you haven’t told them?” Seungcheol shakes his head slowly, averting his gaze. Jeonghan presses on, “Why?”

“The same reason you didn’t kill me.”

“What—that—that doesn’t make any sense,” he deadpans. “The two situations are completely incomparable. How did you even explain the bruises and the broken wrist?”

“It was sprained, not broken. No one batted an eyelash—we’re an organised crime group, for god’s sake, getting into random squabbles isn’t unheard of.” Seungcheol rakes a hand through his hair again, a gesture Jeonghan is starting to identify as a nervous tick. “I just—I wanted to do this first. To find out. And then decide later.” 

Jeonghan considers this for a moment. Shit could have gone down pretty badly. Jeonghan could have been hunted down by Seungcheol’s scary subordinates, taken hostage in his own house, put to death quietly on the side of the street—clean, no-mess, swift, just the way Seungcheol’s people like it to be. But none of that happened. 

Alternatively, Jeonghan could have shot Seungcheol, whose gang is involved in a grudge with fifty others. Leaving him alive would mean leaving the possibility of revolt, of further conflict—but killing him? No one would have been able to trace him back, and he would have left in peace and with victory in his hands. 

It would have been the same outcome.

“I guess I didn’t see the point,” admits Jeonghan, finally answering the question first proposed to him in the dead of night. “You had me pinned down but let me escape. Didn’t think you’d be someone to rat me out." 

“All that while we were fighting on the side of an abandoned road for five minute?”

“Seven and a half,” corrects Jeonghan, a smirk tugging at his lips. “I’m great at reading people."

There isn’t much to say, now that Seungcheol’s gotten his answer. Silence settles, but not for long. “You know we’re going to try and get it back, right?”

“Ah, so that's your decision.” Jeonghan bites his bottom lip. His own nervous tick.“What’s the use? We’ve got the info.” 

“Hired a decryption expert with you?”

Jeonghan internally curses, kicking himself for the obvious lie. His silence is as good an answer as any. “We’ll figure something out before you get to us.”

“Oooh, is that a challenge?” The grin Seungcheol sends him is bright, and for a second Jeonghan thinks he might be flirting with him. How naive, considering the situation they’re joking about, but Jeonghan can’t blame him—sometimes this line of business squeezes the youth out of them. Desperately clutching at the remnants of normal lives—it’s all they can do. 

“A statement, actually. But I’ll let you pretend you have a chance."

A delighted laugh breaks out into the night, not so loud but loud enough that Seungcheol’s body shakes with it. Jeonghan suddenly feels warm. When Seungcheol turns back to him, he looks concerned. “What’d you tell them about that night?”

“That I sneaked into your HQ, opened the safe, and took the USB. Got one of the boys to back me up, pretending to have been on surveillance with me—they would never have believed I did it on my own. No skirmish with you.” He looks up. “No sighting.”

Seungcheol holds his gaze. “That was the first time we met, wasn’t it?” 

Jeonghan might be going mad with nerves, but he thinks Seungcheol’s voice is a little amused, if not wistful. “Yeah. Not much of a meeting in my books, though.” 

“Well, tonight’s our first then. I don’t count near-death experiences as proper meetings, either.” Seungcheol pushes himself off the wall, walks back towards his bike and picks up his helmet, strapping it on. “It won’t be the last.”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” laughs Jeonghan, and he belatedly finds the tautness in his shoulder gone. When did he let his guard get pulled down? 

“Next time, aim better, Jeonghan.” Hearing his name roll off the tip of Seungcheol’s tongue sends shivers down Jeonghan’s spine, but he doesn’t let it show. 

“Worry about your own back, Choi.”

"It's not my back I'm worried about,” he laughs, and there's a tenderness to this statement. Jeonghan finds himself agreeing.

He can hear Seungcheol cackle as he drives away, and comes to a fucked up realisation that he would never, ever be able to shoot his life-sworn enemy in the head even if the situation calls for it. 

Jeonghan’s hoping, at least, that the hesitation is a two-way phenomenon. After all, having his back exposed is fine. Someone else might be able to cover it in a tight pinch.

His heart, though; now that's something he can't hold over someone's head if he somehow lets a gang leader with the moral compass of a saint step all over it. Or worse, shoot right through it.

Jeonghan needs a drink.

 

  

 


End file.
